


Ephemeral

by shobogan



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:51:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shobogan/pseuds/shobogan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>X-Men ficlets. Moments between maelstroms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uno | Erik and Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master of Magnetism will not be manipulated.

“ _No_ , young lady.” That tone dismisses most of the children with ease. He should have known, really, that it wouldn’t work on Scott’s granddaughter. She just smirks at him, shrugging off the sternness. 

"Come on, Erik." Not Magneto. Not even Mr. Lehnsherr. "I thought it was silly too, before Gabriel showed me how to play."

His brow furrows and his mouth thins. “Velocidad. That boy looks at you - “

"Oh, stop." She doesn’t sound particularly annoyed, though. Touched, perhaps. 

She spreads the cards in her hands, staring up at him with wide eyes. He wonders, distantly, if all mutant children have the secondary mutation of imitating kicked puppies.

 _I will not be manipulated_ , he tells himself, but he looks at her and sees everything she doesn’t say; years of violence and loss and loneliness. Today, she is trying to be happy, trying to be a child.

He huffs, and crosses his arms. “I propose a compromise. You teach me this ‘game’, and I’ll teach you how to play chess.”

Her grin is broad and bright, and a little smug.

Well. Surely it won’t be difficult to beat her at a simple card game.


	2. Lesson | Scott and Laura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, _someone_ needs to give Laura The Talk. Might as well be Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set sometime during New X-Men, after Laura has joined the school. You know, back when Scott saw her as a child instead of a weapon.

Scott summons Laura to the Danger Room early one morning. She figures he's giving her a lesson on angles, or some new kind of strategy. 

But when she walks in, it's into floating diagrams of reproductive systems. 

Scott clears his throat, adjusts his glasses, meets her bewildered stare.

"I thought I should - well, I wasn’t sure how much you knew about this."

Laura cocks her head, glances at the diagrams, looks back at him. “I know how it works.”

"Oh. Um, good. All of it?"

"Yes." She points at the uterus. "The uterus is a hormone-responsive sex organ, found in most mammals. One end is connected to the fallopian tubes, while the cervix opens into the vagina - "

"Okay! Great. Good. Biology down." 

He looks so incredibly uncomfortable, Laura almost smiles. 

"So - the sex itself." Again, he adjusts his glasses. Fidgets with his tie, which Emma probably made him wear. "Now, officially, we don’t want any kind of - fraternising. But I know teenagers are - well, I know the temptation is there."

He wants her to agree, she thinks. Urge him forward. She just looks at him.

"Right. So - I want you to know if anyone - you should never feel pressured. No matter who it is, or what they say, or…how lonely you are." For the first time, he smiles. It’s faint and grim and rueful. 

"You were lonely?" It’s easy, to read between what people say, even if she doesn’t entirely understand. They taught her, after all. To observe, to analyse, to strike at weakness. She’s not doing that today; she is only curious.

He’s quiet, for a moment, before he nods. “Yes. I didn’t have many friends, growing up. Not until the X-Men, when I was sixteen.” 

They were the same age, then, when the world opened up.

"So - intimacy. Contact. I know how important it is. And I won’t try to tell you it’s wrong. I just want you to be safe."

He really does, she thinks. It doesn’t matter how unsure or uncomfortable he is; she mattered more. Because she is a child, and she is his student, and he knows about loneliness.

It’s her turn to smile, now, soft and bright.

"Thank you."


	3. Hungry Hungry Hippos | Charles/Erik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik, Charles, and memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone on FFA made a joke about Erik and Charles playing chess in every fic - why not, say, Hungry Hungry Hippos? So, you know, I had to write it.
> 
> This is set in Utopia. o/

"Goodness, Erik, what are you doing?"

He looks rather ridiculous, sprawled on the floor in that outlandish cape of his. He's fiddling with - are those hippos?

Charles arches an eyebrow as he comes closer.

"Do mind your feet, Charles." Erik's voice is strange; strained and rough. In stark contrast, his hands are gentle, fingers movingly deftly as they slide the garish pieces of plastic into place. 

Charles is tempted to pry, but he minds his manners. He just watches Erik move. It's startling, sometimes, how tender he can be if he tries.

When Erik finally looks up, his expression is one of bleak, rueful amusement. "One of the children let me borrow it. They're terrified of me, you know."

"That will change, in time." Charle's voice is soft as he regards his old friend, old enemy. Erik shakes his head, but doesn't argue.

"We used to play this with Anya, Magda and I. I thought, perhaps..."

He doesn't even think; one moment he's standing, and the next he's kneeling opposite Erik. Magnus. Max.

"Well. You can hardly play alone, can you."


	4. Aspiration | Scott Summers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the darkest days, she is still his beacon.
> 
> Scott/Jean, of a sort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for celeste9's fandom stocking! They requested an exploration of Scott being cast as a villain, and it's something I've wanted to do for a while.
> 
> It's set sometime around _Uncanny_ 8, and I reference a scene from _X-Men: First Class_.

No one bothers him here.

They must know it's a prime place for interception. He is never vulnerable, but he is alone and isolated and distracted. 

And yet nothing stirs as he kneels at her grave. He wonders, sometimes, if anyone is running interference. 

He hasn't brought flowers, today. He twists his old badge in his hand, red and gold, and remembers how she made it. 

“We've got a whole class now.” His smile is pained, rueful. _Students_ has meant _soldiers_ for so long. “I told you about the new mutants – Eva _froze the Avengers_ , Jean – but we went to the – to Logan's school. We got Emma's girls, and...we got Warren.” It feels so absurd, saying that. He's talked about them before – about the younger Jean, looking at him like he's a monster – but he can't quite wrap his heart around it all.

He's not sure, still, if he wanted her to join them. Her and his younger self, full of cautious hope and righteous dreams.

“Fabio left – we dropped him off at his house – but we found another guy, David.” His fingers curl in the grass. “They shot him, Jean. For revving up cars. Thank God we've got Triage.” 

He laughs, and it's a broken sort of sound, and he knows Jean would squeeze his hand and kiss his cheek. “Kid doesn't like blood. But he did it anyway.” He shouldn't have to – he should be able to live a life free of horror and violence – but they're not there yet. 

“We've all been training, us _and_ the kids.” They're not all kids, not really, but that's how it feels. “Erik and I are taking point on that. You know, I wasn't sure at first, but then - ”

_Your powers are like breathing, like walking, like eating...they are a part of you._

“Do you remember when we were in Florida? Everyone else was fighting the Lizard, but you and I – we were on the beach. Horsing around in the water. And my glasses slipped off.” He remembers how horrified he was, how ashamed. He remembers Jean taking his arm and telling him to fire into the sea.

_You are what you are, Scott. Just like a horse needs to run, you need to use your power._

“I never could have done it without you.” His voice is breaking, but that's all right; there's no one to hear. “Accepted all of that power, learned to really use it. And now I'm back at square one, and you're not here.”

It's useless, to wonder how things would have went if she'd never died. If they'd have worked it out or separated. If they could run the school together regardless. If she and Emma could have come to an accord and run the whole damn world.

Would the Decimation have even happened? Would they have lost less people – less students, less _children_ \- if it did?

Would Utopia have ever existed? Could they have kept it? 

Useless. 

“I try not to dwell, you know. On all the mistakes, all the failures. You – even after you remembered the Phoenix, even after you accepted it, you always found a way to look forward.” He remembers how appalled he was, when she put on that costume again. 

Stupid. Selfish. 

“Sometimes I'm jealous. People look at me like I'm a murderer, Jean.” It's surreal, sometimes. He's made horrific decisions in his own right mind, but this, this is what casts him out, what makes him a villain. “But they remember the best in you.”

There's no bitterness in his voice, though. How could there be? “I know it's because the best in you was better. The light in you could shine through any shadow.” 

His eyes are burning, behind his glasses. 

“You told me to live, Jean. I'm trying.” No, she would say, you aren't. You are fighting and surviving, but living is _loving_. Living is finding hope and happiness and harmony, even in the darkest hours. Living means joy and laughter.

So many of them hate him. People he considered family. People he shared sweat and blood and tears with. People he had trusted with his life, and trusted him with theirs. 

But he is not alone. He is winning Emma's trust back, and he will earn Erik's forgiveness, and he will guide Illyana through the dark. They will fix each other, and protect their students, and build a better world. 

He smiles through the tears, and presses the frayed symbol against her headstone. 

“Okay. I'll try harder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't work it in, but the person running interference is Rachel.


	5. Auroral | 05 Gen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean never talks about her nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set fairly early in the first team's history.

Jean never talks about her nightmares.

All of them have heard her, by now; a sudden wrenching sob behind her bedroom door, or endless pacing in the corridor, or an oddly desperate snack raid at two in the morning. Sometimes she’ll sit in the rec room and lose herself in the latest scifi movies. (The professor never interrupts her on nights like this, never reprimands her afterwards.)

None of them know how to approach her. Hank, Warren and Bobby have strained discussions over it, while Scott maintains they should leave her alone. It would be easy to think he doesn’t care, except Warren sees how Scott looks at her the mornings after, and Hank notices the sudden organisation of the VCR cabinet, the sudden preponderance of Jean’s favourite snacks.

It’s easy to follow his lead, to offer small comforts. Bobby will break out the board games, or Hank will absorb her in silly science experiments, or Warren will take her flying. She murmurs her gratitude, and they act innocently clueless. The world begins to feel lighter.

And then, one night, it’s worse than it’s ever been. 

All four of them come running towards the crash, and Scott stuns the other boys by picking the lock before they rush inside. Their voices are a ragged chorus of “JEAN?!” 

Her room is a mess. She’s sat in the middle of it with wide red eyes, hands trembling in her lap. 

“I’m - I’m fine - “ She wipes frantically at her eyes. “Just have to clean this mess - “

“No way, Jean.” Bobby marches right up to her before crouching down. After a moment, the other boys follow his lead. 

Jean squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “I know you’ve been trying to help but this isn’t your - “

“Yes. It is.” Scott is sitting the furthest back, shoulders tight and face pinched, but his voice is steady. “We’re a team.”

“Indeed” and “Exactly” follow right afterwards, as Hank and Warren nod their heads.

But Jean is still crying. 

“No. No, you’re my _friends_ , and I can’t lose you too - “ 

Scott’s eyes go wide behind his glasses. Then he stuns them again by crawling forward, closer than any of them.

“I know.” Jean opens her eyes, and their gazes lock. “Old nightmares, new faces.”

Slowly, she nods. Scott sits up, and turns towards the others. “I think…we should sleep in here tonight.”

Bobby is flabbergasted, Hank scandalised, but Warren nods immediately before turning to Jean. “We’ll be here, okay? Right next to you.”

Jean stares at them each in turn, before swallowing hard. Then she raises a hand, and gathers all of the cushions and blankets onto the floor. 

None of them have nightmares, that night.


	6. Amaranth | Jean/Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Jean have drifted apart, over the years. They reunite in a hospital room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set around _Uncanny X-Men_ 101, while the X-Men are in Ireland and Jean’s in the hospital. It's a response to the prompt "You don't have to stay".

Wanda hovers in the doorway, caught between the harsh, sterile light of the hospital corridor and the dim warmth in Jean’s hospital room. (Someone brought lamps from Jean’s room at the mansion; she recognises them with a faint, guilty twinge.) 

“You don’t have to stay.” Jean’s voice is dull and weary, and her eyes remain closed. “I know you get nervous.”

Once, yes. Her power, amidst all this delicate machinery - it was a risk she didn’t like to take. But she’s learned so much, since becoming an Avenger. 

Wanda shakes her head, before she remembers Jean isn’t looking. “No, not any more.” It’s an entirely different brand of nerves that freeze her now. 

“Oh.” Jean turns her head slowly, cautiously, and musters a wan smile. “In that case, pull up a chair.”

A worn armchair starts scraping towards her, and it’s enough to have her striding forward. “Stop that, Jean! In your condition - ”

The chair does indeed stop, and Jean’s eyes glint with the sort of mischief that used to make her heart soar. “Knew that would work.” 

Wanda tries to look stern, but she’s laughing by the time she reaches Jean’s bedside. “I should call your Professor for that, or Scott.”

Jean is laughing too, hoarse and bright. “I’m pretty sure they’d let me get away with anything, right now.”

Her smile fades abruptly, because it brings the truth home all over again; she doesn’t know all the details, but it’s abundantly clear what a close call it was. 

Jean turns sombre, too, as she looks up at her. “What did Scott tell you?”

“Not very much.” Wanda turns and grabs the chair herself, settling down beside her as she continues. “Just that you were hurt, badly, and it would take you some time to recover. He thought you could use - more company.”

“More friends.”

“…Yes.” She doesn’t quite meet Jean’s eyes. Are they, really? It’s been a long time, since they met regularly. A long time since they found solace in simple, pleasant things. 

“Wanda.” There’s so little strength in Jean’s voice, but it pulls her gaze back all the same. “You feel so guilty, and it’s silly.”

“It is not.” Her own voice is heated, now. “This time, Jean, you almost died. How many times - “ 

“How many times have you come close? Your life is as dangerous as mine.”

“Perhaps.” It doesn’t feel that way, somehow; maybe because the Avengers have so much more support, and stability. “But we do not get abducted by men who hate us for what we are.” Her hands have curled into fists in her lap. She and Pietro have been safer, since being branded as heroes, and their actions seem to make a difference, but there is still so much hatred broiling around them. She wonders, sometimes, if it will ever fade.

“So do I.”

Her eyes widen, and Jean grimaces.

“Sorry. It’s hard to - maintain the blocks. Keep it all out.”

Wanda shakes her head, firm and earnest. “It’s fine.” 

Jean is smiling again, crookedly. “Thank you. I’m not - I’m not sure how different I am, now.”

Wanda leans forward, a little, as her eyes narrow. There’s a fear in Jean’s voice she’s never heard before. “What happened, Jean?”

“Well.” Jean takes a breath, slow and steady. Suddenly, Wanda feels like she’s staring down a precipice, inches from the edge. 

“I didn’t _almost_ die, Wanda.”


End file.
